L'Ultima Notte
by viva los angeles
Summary: Gio becomes Betty's psychiatrist on call the day Egg Salad flies home to Tucson. Really fluffy, but actually really good. GxB.


**A/N: Another story so quickly, but I had to write a better one than "Per Te." I haven't yet rewatched "Bananas For Betty," so again, lots of creative license here. I have, however, rewatched those scenes about Gio's last night with the woman he loved… I got Jello knees, and I was sitting down. Damn, he's gorgeous. And he has a gorgeous voice.**

**Gio's easier to write in first person. I think he's also kind of impulsive, so it suits his character.**

**What preposition should follow "disembark?"**

**All this Italian is making my heart absolutely melt. Thank God for the WordReference forums! The translated full sentences here come from "Nicholas the Italian" on those forums.**

**I've also realized that, because Gio is Italian, a lot of my titles and inspirations are coming from Josh Groban songs. So I present…**

--

_L'Ultima Notte_

--

Another Monday rolls around. Betty disembarks the elevator and strides toward Hero Worship, her red heels clicking on the granite tile. Gio takes half a second, no more because she might see him, to check his hair and smell his armpits. Yeah, he gets some weird looks from people in the lobby, but he'd rather risk his reputation with the fashion-conscious socialites than with Betty Suarez.

"There she is…"

"The Eater," she finishes with a lackluster smile.

Gio's forehead furrows in worry. "What's wrong, my little Sun-dried Tomato?"

Betty rolls her eyes with much less disdain than usual. "Today is the day."

"The day Egg Salad leaves," he nods in understanding. "I'm sorry."

"What, no sarcasm?" Betty is surprised, and her eyebrows shoot up to show her emotion.

Indeed, Gio's voice is much softer than it usually is when the pair exchanges their daily banter. His dark eyes search her face for something other than surprise, but she's not wearing her heart on her sleeve (_or more appropriately, wearing her heart on her face, though that destroys the metaphor completely_, he thinks) today. Unfortunately _he_ is, but he quickly tucks his heart back in his pocket. "Would you prefer that I used some?"

"It would make me mildly more comfortable," she responds.

Gio shakes his head, shrugging. "I don't have any today. Sorry, Eater."

"I can't believe you'd let me down on the one day I needed you most." She smiles reluctantly at her own ridiculous statement.

Gio puts together her sandwich with more tomatoes than usual and takes out a bottle of red food coloring. With the red liquid, he puts a smiley face on the top of the bun and ties a ribbon around the whole sandwich. Placing it on a plate, he hands the masterpiece to Betty.

"Thank you," she smiles, but not reluctantly. Gratefully.

"You're welcome, Betty," he smiles back, but it's a mildly sad smile.

"The Eater," she corrects him.

He's confused. "I thought you didn't like that?"

"I lied. It's our thing, remember?"

"Right." He makes a clicking sound with his tongue against his teeth as she waves and walks back to the elevator. He's looking down and preparing his own sandwich—today a black forest ham on ciabatta—when he sees her striding back to the stand. "Aren't you going back upstairs to eat with your _Mode_ girl friends?"

She laughs ruefully. "First of all, I'm not a _Mode_ girl. Second of all, I don't have friends. And third of all, even if I were and I did, they wouldn't eat."

"Point taken. And I'll be your friend," he says with a grin.

"Thanks. Do you want to join me for lunch?" She gestures toward the three tables spread before the cart.

Gio nods and picks up his sandwich, flipping the "Temple Open" sign around to reveal "Temple Closed"—a temple to his sandwich prowess, of course. Hence the "worship" in "Hero Worship"—sometimes he gives himself more credit than he deserves and pretends it was his idea, not Betty's.

She sits down at the middle table of the three and he joins her, sitting across from her at the four-chair-but-really-two-person table—the company just appears to have assumed that only half of its employees will be eating.

"Do you want to talk?" he asks.

Betty looks up at him, her mouth full of tomatoey turkey. Once she's swallowed, she observes, "You're being much nicer to me today than usual."

"You said you needed the sarcasm, but I don't think you do. I get you, Betty Suarez. I get that you need people. You pretend you don't but really, you need people."

Betty huffs as best as one can huff when one is halfway through biting off a piece of a sandwich. Again she swallows, thankfully. "I do not. You're bluffing."

Gio shakes his head and chuckles. "You're bluffing. You need people."

"I only need Hilda, Dad, Justin, and Henry," she gives in a bit, but not enough to satisfy Gio's hunger.

"You need me, too, don't you? Otherwise we wouldn't be down here eating lunch together when Egg Salad is up on the accounting floor eating lunch alone."

Even on a day like this, a day that could potentially ruin Betty Suarez's life and, by association, his own, Gio can't resist one of his more subtle come-ons. He's gotten pretty clever at doing so under Betty-Radar, but Egg Salad always notices… and that's part of the point, part of the fun. It's amazing the things Gio can get away with because Henry is too timid to do anything.

"I need you," she admits rather resentfully and takes another bite of her sandwich. As she looks down at her watch, her eyebrows pop up like breakfast from a toaster. "Shoot! I forgot I have a major meeting today to finish the layout… I'm so sorry!" She stands up and snatches the sandwich in one hand, beginning to take off.

"Wait," Gio says, and reaches for her, catching her wrist and turning her back to face him. He takes a napkin and a pen and writes down a number. "If you need a friend, which we've come to the conclusion that I am, call me. I'll be there."

She smiles earnestly, her eyes wrinkling. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

"Go finish that layout," he urges her towards the elevator before he realizes his fingers are still curled around her wrist. He removes them and pushes her gently to the elevator. "Go!"

As she takes off for the elevator he begins to chuckle. Strolling back to his cart, he lifts his sandwich from the table, turns the sign back around and sits at a stool behind his meats and condiments. He eats his own sandwich alone. "It's only just a matter of time," he says to himself, shaking his head. Only just a matter of time until Betty's heart is broken, except this time it's permanent and he's not sure there's anything that can be done.

The rest of his day passes uneventfully. Hardly any natives of the building buy his sandwiches; he's noticed that most of his revenue comes from people from outside the company, people who come in the doors just to get a sandwich from Giovanni Rossi. Admittedly, it makes him happier, but nothing could make him happy while he thinks of what Betty is about to endure. He has spent hours wondering at his affection for this girl, why all of a sudden personality matters more than looks to him, but then he forgets it because it's not worth the thought. There's nothing he can do about it, because he has already fallen for her and he can't just reverse the events that caused him to tumble into love with her.

If he could, he would—it's not a convenient thing, to love a girl who's already got a wonderfully loving boyfriend. But there's a time stamp on that relationship, and today it expires, and he entertains a fleeting thought of what might happen after Egg Salad gets on a plane to go join his girlfriend and child (a daughter, Betty told Gio a few days ago, and they plan to name her Hyacinth). But he knows that Betty cannot be easily repaired.

After the building closes down, he hops in his Toyota and drives through Brooklyn onto I-278. Once he has entered Staten Island, he drives to Antonella's school, picks her up, and she falls asleep in the front seat as he drives her home. He parks in the driveway of a large house in an affluent neighborhood—the house that he and Nella share with their parents. When he opens Nella's door he realizes that she is asleep, and so he scoops up her thin frame easily and carries her in through the back door, her tiny backpack on his back. His mom comes to greet him at the door but he nods to his sister, and his mother smiles as he carries Nella up the stairs to her room. Placing her on the ruffled bedspread, he closes the door silently and walks back down the stairs.

"Sorry I'm so late, Mom," he apologizes as he hugs his mother. "People keep coming in off the street to buy my sandwiches."

"I'm so proud of you, _amore_. Such an entrepreneur," she replies in her Italian accent as she lets him go. "But let me make dinner, okay?"

He nods and smiles.

After dinner is over, Gio goes upstairs. He checks on Nella, who has curled up on her bed with the stuffed animal she usually hides so no one sees it—it's the blue bear he bought her when she was only three. A smile spreads over his face as he retreats into his own room and sits in front of his computer. Very few emails to answer, and of course he has to check up on his Mets, but other than that, nothing to do. He is mulling over the idea of going down the street to the _gelateria_ for dessert until his phone rings. _Betty_.

When he flips it open and puts it to his ear, all he can hear is crying. "Oh, _tesorina mia_," he murmurs into the phone. "Give me your address and I'll be right there." She blubbers it into the phone and he gets it onto paper. "Hang on for twenty minutes, okay?" She sobs in the affirmative, and he hangs up. Silently he trots down the stairs and waves to his mother. "I've got to go rescue a maiden," he tells her, and she knows exactly what he's talking about. She gives a little wave back and he gets in his Toyota and speeds down I-278, then to Northern Boulevard, and then onto 60th Street, driving far over the speed limit to make it in twenty-two minutes. Thank God for that GPS system his parents bought him for Christmas. He pulls up to the small, quaint house and sees her sitting on the front steps.

She lifts her face from her hands to look at him and smile a watery smile. "_Piccolina mia_," he exits the car and croons to her across the sidewalk. He approaches her and sits next to her on the stoop, putting an arm around her shoulders as she starts sobbing again. The sun has long set, and Egg Salad's plane is long gone.

"He chose her," she says in a whisper after her new tears have subsided. "He chose her over me. The last four months have been nothing but a lie."

"I wanna punch that guy," Gio mutters under his breath, but Betty pokes him in the side.

"Don't," she warns. "Don't say that."

"I could never do anything that would hurt you," he says, "but Egg Salad is a different story. But this is about _you_. How are you doing? Not well, I would assume."

"Not very," Betty manages a small chuckle despite herself. "I know I said it was all a lie, but it was my own fault. I took a step when I should have stepped down."

"No," Gio says softly. "No, you did the right thing. You took advantage of what you had left with him. You can't control love."

A sniffle. "I suppose not. But you know what?"

"What?"

"I think this is for the better."

Gio's shock radiates through his face. "Really? How's that?"

"I can move on now," she responds. "These past few months I've been locked, knowing that this would come, preparing myself, but unable to do anything about it." She dissolves into tears again.

"Oh, _cara mia_," he holds her head against his shoulder. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you can move on. Bigger and better things."

"I just wish I had done some of those things that you told me about in the salon that day," she starts. "All those things about… the last time you have someone."

"I'll tell you a secret."

"What?"

He whispers to enforce the idea of a secret. "I would do those things all the time with the girl I loved, because you never know what's going to happen. Not just before I knew I would lose her."

Betty turns her head up to meet Gio's gaze. "When did you become such a deep guy?"

"You've never provided me with the opportunity," he laughs quietly. "With you, it's always back-and-forth, banter, sarcasm, gloat, whatever. I've always been deep—just the deepest three inches of a shallow pool."

Despite herself, she laughs. "Well, now I know. Make a mental note—'Gio is the deepest part of a shallow pool.'"

"I'm happy to see you laugh, _cucciola mia_," he smiles in the new darkness and pats her shoulder reassuringly. "It's much better than _le__ lacrime_, these tears."

"Tears heal the heart," she reminds him.

"Amen," he tosses his head back and laughs a bit louder than maybe he ought to but he can't help it because he's smitten and he's cold and _damnit_ but he's just so in love with this girl.

He stretches his legs out as his left knee has fallen asleep from being bent for so long, and she leans against his shoulder again. His steady breaths now fall into her dense, dark hair, and with every expansion of his lungs he receives a steady supply of the perfume and shampoo that absolutely drive him crazy.

"Gio, thank you so much for being here," she says softly. "I really appreciate that you would just be on call for me."

"That's me," he says into her hair, "waiting by the phone to rescue you from Prince Charming. Except it's usually the other way around."

"I'm beginning to understand that this is the end, and that he is gone," she replies.

"Good for you,_ dolce_," he smiles. "I'm glad to hear it." He's enjoying using these terms of endearment, mostly because he can use really strong ones and she essentially has no idea what he's saying.

"Here's to no regrets," she says, lifting up an imaginary glass. He mirrors her gesture and they pretend to toast, Gio adding in a _clink_ sound.

"_Alla salute_," he responds and pretends to down the glass in one gulp.

"What a waste of good champagne," she chides him lightly.

He chuckles. "You think too much."

"Said the deepest part of the kiddie pool."

"Hey! I did not say 'kiddie,' I said 'shallow!'" He stands up, his arms akimbo, his face in a pretend expression of indignation, now visible as the streetlights have turned on.

"Kiddie pool, kiddie pool," she stands on the ground directly in front of him and pokes his chest.

"Am not!" he swats her lightly.

"Are too," she grins.

He opens his arms. "Embrace the kiddie pool!"

And she surprises him by doing so. She wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. His eyebrows again shoot up, but he quickly adjusts and wraps his own arms around her waist, again subjected to that scent.

"Thank you, again," she says.

And then he can feel her breath on his neck, and he knew he'd never felt closer to any other woman, just as he'd told Betty that afternoon in the salon.

As they let go of each other, she smiles her killer smile and he has no choice in what happens next. Free will flies out the proverbial window as he moves within inches of her face. She gasps just the slightest amount, and he brushes his nose against hers. "_Dolcezza_," he whispers as his lips graze hers, their foreheads pressed together. "_Sei la prima cosa che penso quando mi sveglio, e l'ultima quando mi addormento._"

"What?" she murmurs, her eyelids closing, his breath warming her neck.

"You are the first thing I think about when I wake, and the last thing I think of when I fall asleep."

"That's beautiful," she whispers.

"I guess I went a bit overboard on the Italian," he breathes before he fills the void between them. His hands reach her jawline and their lips come together in a kiss that Gio had been anticipating but not expecting this entire day. Somehow his hands drift to the small of her back and she has her hands on his shoulders and they are alone on the street and he's never felt this way about anyone but he loves it… and he loves her.

Betty smiles as they part. "Nope, just enough Italian."

"_Amore mia_," he adds for good measure as their smiling eyes lock. "My dear Betty."

"I'd say something in Spanish but I don't speak it very well," Betty frowns slightly and then something in the window catches her eye. Hilda is holding up a sign. _Cariño_ is scrawled on a large sheet of paper, and Betty's sister is grinning. "_Cariño_," Betty rolls the word into Gio's ear, and he grins.

"I like it."

Suddenly Hilda's waving her hand. "Dad's coming," Betty says frantically. "You'd better go. Ordinarily I'd remind you that my dad absolutely adores you, but tonight I'm supposed to be devastated. He might be worried to find me kissing you on the stoop."

Gio laughs. "I understand." He bends forward, puts his lips to her ear, and murmurs, "_Ti amo_. I love you. Let this be _l'ultima notte di tristezza_. The last night of sadness."

"_Te quiero_," she says as he climbs into his car.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep tight, _mangiona mia._ My big eater."

He hears her laughter through his open window as he drives home, knowing his life is changed forever.

---

**Sort of a postscript A/N: I've been getting reviews and PMs asking some questions, mostly "why did they get together so quickly?" Well, I don't know about you but I'm pretty convinced that Gio is absolutely in love with Betty, especially after four months of being her best friend (which I emphasize more in "Mai," the sorta-prequel to this story). There will also be a _midquel_ that will cover the void in this story with Henry leaving from Betty's POV, so look out for "Aléjate," coming this weekend, to cover why Betty was so eager. Plus, I'm a romantic. It's much more fun to write it this way--and I've done my best to make it appear realistic. Keep in mind that this all takes place about four months from "Bananas For Betty." **

**Thanks.**

**Kylie **


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